


Peace of Mind

by 401



Series: Breaking the Ice [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anger, Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve can usually calm Bucky down, but now he feels hopeless. Wanda Maximoff gives the Winter Soldier some peace of mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace of Mind

The Winter Soldier threw another splintering punch into the tiled floor of the cell he was being held in.

SHIELD had decided that, although Bucky’s memory was showing signs of returning and he was calming down some, he was not stable enough to live unmonitored. Steve had offered to move him into his apartment, he was more than happy to do that. Fury had shot down the idea phenomenally, making Steve feel like a little girl asking her parents for a pony.

“You know how dangerous that could be, Captain,” Fury had said, “And I would expect more foresight and caution from someone of your calibre.”

Steve had returned to his usual place, in a chair on the other side of Bucky’s cell, defeated, frustrated and red-faced with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” Bucky had mumbled quietly, not looking at Steve’s face, “I’m trying to keep myself in check, really.”

Now, on his knees on the floor of that god-forsaken cell, he was beyond keeping anything in check. He was overcome with blistering memories, flashbacks that made his ears buzz and his temples ache. His chest was ragged with sobs.

“Shh, come on Buck,” Steve tried to restrain Bucky’s wrists to stop him from punching, “You’ll hurt yourself, pal.”

I had been hours, and Bucky’s flesh hand was now bruised, his knuckles were bloody and were leaving red smudges on the white tiles. His hair had fallen loose from behind his ears and clung to his forehead with sweat and tears were rolling down his flaming cheeks and over his lips, clenched into a grimace of fear and fury.

“Make this STOP!” Bucky screamed, word shaking with gasps and cries, “I hate this, I hate this so much.”

The desperation in Bucky’s voice made Steve feel hopeless, useless in calming his distress. All he could do was promise to Bucky that he was safe, but what good would that do. In Bucky’s eyes, he wasn’t safe. He was back in that HYDRA bunker, surrounded by pain and repetitive recalls of his trauma, blurring and suffocating his mind. This was very real to him.

“Try to breathe,” Steve soothed, “I’m right here.”

Nothing changed. Bucky threw another punch into the tiles, grunting with pain and exertion. As Bucky threw the metal arm back to deliver another blow, the titanium elbow of it crack Steve hard in the chin. The Captain sat back, eyes clenched shut and rubbing his chin to ease the ringing. Bucky fell forward, slumped over his knees, his tears, shaking his shoulders and his hands over the back of his head, like an earthquake was hitting, or he was being shot at. Protecting himself.

“I’m so scared,” he wept, “I’m sorry…”

His breathing was tense. Steve turned on his radio to Natasha reluctantly. He knew what he was about to do and he hated it almost as much as Bucky would.

“Natasha, send me some back up,” Steve whispered to avoid Bucky hearing, “I can’t calm him down.”

There was a pause on the line.

“I’m on it Steve, hold on.”

The line went dead and Steve sighed. He resented ever giving in to Bucky being drugged. It left him controlled and immobile, his body removed from his ownership once again. When he came round, he was in for hours of nausea and dizziness. It wasn’t fair. He had had enough of that.

Steve shuffled forward to Bucky, still on his knees and placed a hand on Bucky’s neck. Bucky flinched at the touch and his sobs intensified. Steve sighed in defeat and buried his head in his hands.

“I’m trying, Buck,” Steve pleaded, “If I could go through this instead of you I would, no doubt about it.”  


Bucky raised his hand again, going to fight the floor again but let it drop with a metallic clatter against the floor, exhausted and still sobbing hard.

The secure door to the cell buzzed open and Steve was surprised by the brunette in jeans and a burgundy cardigan, rather than a scared looking nurse in scrubs.

“Wanda?” Steve greeted, “Where’s the nurse, with the Thorazine shots?”

Wanda Maximoff smiled, rolling her eyes.

“Hello to you too, Captain rogers,” She said, taking off her gloves, “Natasha sent me.”

Wanda stepped forward and kneeled next to Bucky’s shuddering, slumped form on the ground.

“It’s okay!” She pushed away Steve’s protective hands. He sat back, concerned at Wanda’s closeness.

As far as Steve knew, Bucky had never met Wanda, even when they were at Hydra at the same time. They had probably seen each other a couple of times, passed in a hallway, trained near each other, but Bucky’s mind was wiped so often that it was pretty unlikely that Bucky would see her as a familiar. If anything, seeing her face would remind him of HYDRA and drag him deeper into turmoil.

“James?” Wanda whispered, soft and low.

Bucky shuffled away an inch or two, like a scared animal backing into the corner of a cage. Steve’s throat tightened with tears.

“I’m going to make it go away, James,” Wanda reassured, placing a hand on the side of Bucky’s head.

Steve automatically expected Bucky to lash out, but nothing of the sort happened. He seized up, perfectly still. The terror stayed on his face but his body was static.

“Мы сделали это раньше, баки,” She whispered in Russian, _We’ve done this before, Bucky._

Bucky stared into Wanda’s eyes for a moment, before nodding in permission. Trust.

Wanda took a breath and cupped Bucky’s face in her hands. Her nails were painted deep red; The Scarlet Witch.

Steve watched in apprehension and awe as spiralling, wispy coils of red and fuchsia erupted from Wanda’s fingertips. Steve had seen this before but had been so distracted by action and adrenaline that he had not fully appreciated how amazing it looked.

The tendrils of light and energy curled around Bucky’s ears like smoke and came to a standstill like a force-field. Bucky gasped, staring blankly at the ceiling, clearly not seeing the room around him. Wanda smiled, almost maternally, flicking her fingers now and then. A small twitch of a smile shivered in the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

Steve put his hand on Bucky’s chest. His heart had slowed, calm and lucid. It took Steve a minute to realise that Bucky’s eyes had closed, rescued by sleep. He looked to Wanda with admiration and incredulity.

“How…” Steve was at a loss, “What did you show him?”

Wanda shrugged, gently laying Bucky’s head on Steve’s lap.

“A home.” She started, “Security, protection. You and him, married and happy.” Wanda looked saddened suddenly.

“I know how he feels, when you can’t chase away things you don’t want to remember, and security and certainty is what you crave when you feel like that.”

She looked at her hands.

“I was employed to calm him down every time he was…problematic at HYDRA. I felt bad then, like I was invading his will, but now I know he probably feels better for it.”

 

Steve nodded, looking down at Bucky. They had known each other.

“Thank you, Wanda,” Steve said earnestly, “Спасибо.”

Wanda stood up and bowed shallowly.

“Call me if you need me again, Rogers,” She patted Steve’s head and made for the door before turning to face him again.

“And work on your Russian.”  



End file.
